Misconceptions of the Hopelessly Naive
by hiruma-devil
Summary: Upon waking up Alfred feels strange. He'd never felt this awful in his life. He seeks out Arthur, and in doing so, he overhears the man's conversation and comes to the terrible realization that Arthur hates him.


**AN:** In this story, Alfred is still living with Arthur and is about 10. I know in one of the episodes Alfred says "What's a cold?" but oh well. And I'm also pretty sure indoor plumbing wasn't invented around this time, but again, oh well. I needed it in the story. I don't think this is a human AU, I just didn't feel like mixing in the country aspect of it all.

Line Break

Alfred woke up that morning feeling strange, and not a pleasant sort of strange. When he at last mustered up the energy to crack open his eyes, the light stung terribly. Prying them open slowly to let them become accustomed to the light, he blearily looked around his room, slowly propping himself up onto his elbows. He had never felt like this before, but as his head started to pound sickeningly, he abruptly decided that he did not like it. He felt uncomfortably hot, and as he raised his hand to rub at his squinting eyes, he noticed it shook. He hated this more and more the longer he was awake. Making up his mind, he supposed he should go and inform Arthur, hoping he would know what was going on.

Alfred swung his feet onto the floor, giving a small shudder at the spike of cold that ran up his body at the contact with the frozen wood floor. He hauled himself out of bed, catching himself on the bedpost as his knees almost gave way. He clung to it desperately, trying to still his weakly shaking body. He drew in a shaky breath, letting go of the bed post and making his way cautiously to his dresser.

His eyes began to water as he tried to button his clothes. His stupid fingers refused to respond! They kept slipping over the buttons and he suddenly felt so overwhelmed, raising a hand to swipe at his eyes. Finally he managed to button his shirt and decided it was best to just leave his vest to hang open. Hesitatingly he began the search for Arthur, his small footsteps inaudible on the plush carpets, doing his best to stay upright by clinging to the wall as he went. His first stop was Arthur's study where he hoped the man would be there enjoying his morning tea. He stopped outside the door to collect himself, and raised his hand to knock on the thick door before he stopped. Arthur was speaking to someone. Curiosity getting the better of him, he pressed his ear against the key hole to listen.

"I just can't stand him anymore, Tino. He's so obnoxious and troublesome." Alfred froze.

"What are you saying this all of the sudden? Shouldn't you be used to him after all these years." Tino's voice rang out.

"I just think I've taken all I can from him. He can't ever seem to do anything right, and he refuses to stop hanging onto me all the time. It's just infuriating; I've grown beyond sick of it all." Alfred felt a sickening lurch in his heart, clenching his hands to his chest. Arthur wasn't talking about him… was he? He knew that he probably hung around the older man a bit too much, but Arthur had never let on that he didn't enjoy the company. It was true he couldn't really do anything right, but he was still young. Wasn't it to be expected he would need help? His heart _hurt _as he came to the realization that maybe it was not his ineptitude Arthur disliked, but perhaps just himself.

He snapped back to attention, Arthur was still speaking. "I know it's not ever quite right to say you hate someone, but that's the only feelings I'm capable of having towards him. What's worse, he seems to be under some sort of delusion that I enjoy his company."

"Well he is a rather taxing individual to deal with so I can't really fault you for saying that." Tino replied. Alfred stood motionless for a moment, teeth digging into his lip as he tried to stop his eyes from welling with tears. Arthur had hated him all this time and he never even knew. His headache that he'd managed to ignore in favor of listening in had come back with a vengeance. Splendid, now his body felt as rotten as his heart did.

Suddenly, the doors swung inward revealing the two still chatting men. Arthur stumbled as he tried to not run over the wide eyed motionless boy.

"Oh? You're already awake, I was just coming to collect you- Good lord, are you alright Alfred? You're crying." Arthur fell to his knees green eyes wide in concern, one hand grasping the boy's shoulder while the other tenderly went to his cheek, strong thumb wiping away his traitorous tears. Alfred once again bit his lip quite fiercely, attempting to force his tears to cease, even though Arthur's gentleness only made him want to sob. The older man was such a good actor, the care he showed him seemed so real. He could no longer delude himself now that he knew the truth of Arthur's feelings towards him.

"I-I'm fine Arthur, I just hit my arm when I ran down the hallway, it hurt a lot." Alfred said, giving the man a weak smile. Arthur let out a sigh, eyes closing in relief before smiling fondly at him and ruffling his hair.

"Foolish boy, this is why I tell you not to run in the house." Arthur gave him a last squeeze on the shoulder before standing and turning back to Tino.

"Shall we meet again next week?" The other man smiled.

"That would be fine, I look forward to it. Goodbye Arthur. Alfred." He nodded farewell to the young nation, still smiling. Again Alfred was shocked at what good actors they were, and waved goodbye to the older man. Arthur tuned back to him, and smiled.

"Well, come along. I believe it is time for breakfast."

Line Break

"You're rather quite today Alfred, is anything wrong?" Alfred shook his head slowly, tying not to aggravate his pounding head as he pushing the unidentifiable blackened food around his plate. Usually he liked the older man's cooking, but today it seemed as if with every bite he took it only made his stomach feel strange, like it was churning and sloshing about. He finally gave up, and set his fork on his plate. Arthur lifted his rather impressive eyebrows at him.

"Now I'm sure something is bothering you, you never eat this little. What's wrong?" Alfred warred with himself, considering if he should tell Arthur he felt strange, but quickly dismissed the ludicrous idea. Arthur already hated him, but he feverously hoped that possible if he didn't bother him about every little thing, Arthur might start to like him, or at the very least hate him a bit less.

"Nothing's wrong, I'm just not hungry." His blue eyes flicked up uncertainly at Alfred, taking a deep breath to quell his stomach and gathered his courage.

"U-um Arthur? I was wondering… Is there anything I can do around the house? You know, to help? I really want to." Arthur looked at him in shock. First the boy wouldn't eat and now he was looking for work?

"Well..." He said slowly. "If you really want to, I suppose you could go ahead and rake up the leaves in the back yard. If you don't think it would be too much? I have quite a bit of paperwork to take care of today, but I should be able to help you later on." Alfred leapt at this chance, standing up suddenly before he realized it was a bad idea to move that fast. He gripped onto the table until his fingers hurt to stop himself from gripping his stomach and letting Arthur know something was amiss.

"No no, you don't need to help me! I'll be fine on my own you have important work you have to do. The rake is in the shed right? I'll get to it right now!" Alfred raced out of the room, deciding that he would rather chance his body being upset with him than have to stay with Arthur another second and be subjected to his false concern.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help? And don't run, you'll hurt yourself again!" Arthur's voice called after him.

"I'm sure!" Alfred yelled back before continuing outside at a more sedate pace. No matter how awfully his head pounded, he couldn't help but smile as he stopped to grab his jacket. This was his chance! He could help Arthur out while finally allowing him to get some work done. He couldn't possibly bother the older man this way. He came to the shed and after a bit of struggle, managed to wrench the doors open enough to get inside and grope around in the dark until he found the hanging rake. He turned back to the yard and his optimistic smile faded as he seemed to take in for the first time how truly huge the yard was. His face twisted into a determined scowl, it didn't matter how big it was, he _was_ going to get it done.

On his first stroke over the grass, he belatedly realized the rake was meant for someone much taller than he, making it a cumbersome and arduous process. Pausing, he glanced around. He supposed that he should probably make several piles of leaves around the yard; making a huge one would be too much of a hassle. He rested the handle of the broom on his shoulder, hopefully out of the way, and began in the farthest corner. He smiled in satisfaction as he finished the first small pile and moved on to another part of the yard; it seemed that this was going to be much easier than he first thought.

Seven leaf piles later he was wishing he hadn't jinxed himself. His, what seemed to be ever present, headache seemed to now pound in time with each labored pull of the rake. The shaking in his hand which had been gone since he went to breakfast, now returned. The rake slipped from his already weak grip and smacked him harshly in the face. He let out what he would refuse to acknowledge was a whimper and dropped the rake to rub his temple and scowl at the accursed thing.

Sighing heavily, he stooped over and retrieved the rake and resumed his work. This had to have been one of his stupider ideas; he should have kept his mouth shut. He could admit to himself that this wasn't likely to work. Arthur would still most likely hate him, what would one act do to change that? He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants before gripping the rake tightly. He couldn't quit now, that would only increase Arthur's dislike more. With a grimace set on his lips, he continued on.

Line Break

The sun was high in the sky when he finally looked up from his work and acknowledged he was finished. He returned the rake to the shed and made his way back to the house. He felt so strange, like he was freezing and burning up at the same time, he trudged inside, rubbing his frozen hands over his arms. He walked sluggishly to Arthur's study, knocking weakly on the door.

"Wha-Yes come in." Arthur called.

"Arthur I-I'm finished." He raised a hand to his forehead, sighing as his cold fingers soothed his pain.

"Huh? Oh, that's great Alfred." He muttered, raising a stack of papers to peer under it, searching for something it seemed. Alfred visibly deflated, well he had been right, it didn't matter what he did, Arthur just wanted him to be away from him.

"Um… Do you want to see the yard?"

"What? No Alfred, I'm rather busy." He waved the boy off without turning to look at him, continuing his search. Alfred shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"Is there anything I could help you with?" He asked. Arthur sighed heavily, slumping in his chair.

"No Alfred. Please just leave me alone, go find something to keep you busy. Go… go have tea, something, just please keep away from me." Alfred bit his lip; eyes turned to the ground, and silently left the room. God no wonder Arthur hated him, he truly was useless. He couldn't do anything that could be of any use to the clearly frustrated and stressed man. He entered the kitchen. There was no way he'd be able to eat anything, but maybe… Arthur looked like he'd been working all day, maybe he would like some tea? He gave a weak smile at the thought, trying to not get him hopes up at the prospect of pleasing the other man.

As quickly as he could, he began to make the tea and scrounge up some food to go along with it. Pulling out some biscuits, he stopped to consider them a moment. They looked good, maybe he could stomach a few and he might feel better after he ate. He popped one in his mouth, they were good. He reached for another before his stomach lurched.

He stopped eyes wide. What was that? That felt disgusting. It felt… It felt like his stomach was trying to crawl out of his throat. Oh god, oh god what was going on? It seemed to climb ever higher and he took off. The bathroom seemed the most sensible option for whatever was about to happen. He reached it, slamming the door shut behind him. He stared around wildly as the feeling grew. His body made the decision for him and he fell to his knees in front of the toilet. His mouth started to water and his body lurched forward. His mouth fell open against his will as the feeling finally came to his mouth. He leaned forward as... Oh god what was happening!? He couldn't stop, couldn't hold it in, his body heaved and locked up as a chunky watery mixture rushed from his mouth into the toilet. It was the most disgusting and fetid thing he'd ever tasted and it burned. Tears fell from his eyes. It_ hurt_.

Was he dying? Is this what happened when you died? He sank limply against the bowl as it stopped. He felt dreadful. He was forced back into position as what seemed to be a second wave came, the sick mixture nearly catapulting out of his mouth. When he could breathe, he sobbed weakly before it began again. Soon the stream stopped and he was just left heaving weakly over the bowl as nothing came out. Slumping down once again he cried. In truth he did feel a bit better but the knowledge that he was dying muted any relief he could have felt.

How was he going to tell Arthur? Or… Maybe the man would be glad? That thought was too much and the boy broke into sobs. After he managed to collect himself, he pushed himself up to the sink, cupping his hands under the water to rinse his mouth of the fowl taste. Well, he decided, if he was going to die he was going to try and make Arthur happy one last time. In the kitchen he found his hastily abandoned tray of tea and grabbed it, nearly buckling under the weight. He could do this. He could do this.

He wasn't quite sure how he made his way to the study, but he didn't think on it. He entered without knocking, knowing that he couldn't hold the tray steady that long.

"A-Arthur. I brought you some t-t-tea." His mouth didn't seem to be functioning well. Again the man didn't look up from his paperwork.

"Hmm? Oh yes, thank you Alfred. Just set it there." He made a vague motion to a cleared space on a coffee table. Alfred set it down, thankful that he had managed not to drop it on the way here. He cast one last look at the man before turning to leave. No matter how much Arthur hated him, he would always love the older man. He would miss him. The walk to the door seemed to be getting longer the farther he walked. A loud ringing became present, so loud that it muffled everything else and it only seemed to be getting louder. A black… something seemed to be crawling over his eyes until the door was a pinprick in his sight. He swayed wildly before his knees gave way once more on him and the floor rushed up to meet him.

Line Break

His head was going to split open, he was sure of it. He battled his way into consciousness, and once he'd managed it, decided it had been a horrible idea. Opening his eyes slowly and cautiously seemed to make no difference, the light still stung at them horribly. He let out a weak whimper. Somehow he had gotten to his room and now that he was there, all he wanted to do was sleep. His stomach seemed to disagree with that idea, and it churned violently to encourage him to get out of bed. Oh god, he wished he would die already and stop prolonging his torture. Another turn of his stomach convinced him it really would be best to get out of bed.

He managed to get his feet swung onto the floor, but they refused to hold his weight as he stood and he was sent crashing to the floor with a loud thump. He didn't care at the moment and began to frantically try to drag himself to the bathroom. Alas, he didn't make it. He was but half way across his room when his body seized up against his will. The small amount of water that he'd consumed while rinsing his mouth left his body in a hurry, splashing weakly on the floor. Soon he was left heaving emptily, a disgusting vile yellow liquid that he knew he hadn't drank dripped from his open mouth to join the putrid mess. When it finally, finally subsided, the tears that had been leaking from his eyes turned to full sobs.

Arthur was going to kill him before he ever had a chance to die. It was bad enough he couldn't do anything of use to the man, but now he was just disgusting and causing a mess. Suddenly, the door was flung open to reveal the very last person Alfred wanted to see.

"Alfred are you alright, I thought I heard- Good lord!" The man had caught sight of him, and if possible, the boys trembling intensified. Arthur hurried over, carefully crouching over the puddle of sick near him.

"Are you alright? How on earth did you get out of bed? Did you fall? Here-" Arthur came closer, snaking one arm under the boy's legs and the other under his head. He hoisted him up before walking over to the bed and depositing him gently onto the plush mattress, pulling the covers to his chest. He smiled at him; it was a strange smile, looking relieved and worried at the same time. His hand came and stroked Alfred's sweaty hair off his burning forehead.

"S-sorry, I'm sorry Arthur. I didn't mean to do it. I-I think it might be a side effect." He stuttered out, looking pleading at the older man.

"Mean to do wha- Oh! You mean about getting sick. There's no need to worry, it's not your fault. You can't control what your body does in these situations." Alfred looked at him now with wide eyes.

"You know? You know I'm… dying?" At his words Arthur seemed to lose all his color.

"Dying? What you're not- What happened? Why on earth do you think you're dying?" He seemed to become frantic, eyes searching Alfred face.

"Because. M-my head hurts, and I'm cold and hot and shaky and my stomach is crawling its way out of my throat. Isn't that what happens when you die?" His heart sank as Arthur began to laugh, yet another sign the man wouldn't miss him when he was gone.

"No, no you silly boy, you aren't dying. You're sick." He smiled at him, but it did nothing to alleviate Alfred's worries.

"Sick? What is that? It is worse than death?" His eyes filled with tears and in his weak state, he could do nothing to assuage them. Arthur gave him a sad look.

"No, it merely means that your body has caught a virus and is fighting it off. In your case, it looks like the flu. In the worse case scenario, it shouldn't last longer than a week. When the virus has been fought off you will regain your energy. You are going to survive this, don't you fret."

"R-really? I'm not going to die?"

"No, surely not my dear." At this news, Alfred burst into tears. Even he could not tell why he was crying, he should be happy, right? But these didn't feel like happy tears.

"Oh Alfred." Arthur crooned gently, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss on the distraught boys head. "It'll be alright. Are you going be sick again? I have a bowl here so you don't have to get up." He gently ruffled the sobbing boy's damp hair.

"Why are y-you d-d-doing this? I kn-n-n-now you hate m-me. You don't h-have to pretend anymore." He was having a hard time speaking thorough his hiccoughing breaths and he would have given anything in the world for the man to give him a hug, but he couldn't take being lied to anymore.

"What? What on earth are you talking about child? I don't hate you, how did you ever get such a ridiculous idea?"

"You do! I heard you! I heard you talking about me to Mr. Tino, you said that you hated me and I was annoying, and I couldn't do anything right, and I just caused trouble, and that I was useless, and- and… and." His poor heart could take it no longer and he stopped, sniffling miserably into his thick blanket. Great, now he couldn't even breathe through his nose. Arthur's eyes grew wide before he slumped over, placing his head into his hands.

"Oh dear lord, save me from prying children." Arthur mumbled under his breath. He turned to the distraught boy.

"Alfred, I wasn't speaking about _you_. It was someone about else."

"W-what? But it couldn't have been. Who else could it have been abou-?"

"Francis. I was complaining about Francis. That blood- um… fool caused a great deal of trouble for me yesterday and I was simply relaying my woes to Tino." Arthur turned to look at him seriously.

"Alfred, there is no way I could ever hate you. No matter what atrocity you commit, you will still be my darling child and I will always, _always_ love you." Alfred was so shocked that his tears finally stopped, and he gazed at the man in surprise.

"Really? It really wasn't about me?"

"No, it wasn't."

"But… but… Arthur I was so worried and I felt awful all day long, but I thought that if I told you that I would just be more of a problem so I didn't, but then I got… sick and stuff came up and it was gross and I didn't know what to do!" His words came out in one breathless rush, finally spilling all his worries to the older man.

"Oh Alfred." Arthur sighed once again; he seemed to be doing that a lot today. "Even if I am mad at you for something, whether it is real or imagined, I still never want you to suffer in silence. Do you have any idea how scared I was when I looked up and saw you passed out on the floor? For a moment I really did have a horrible thought that you had died. I couldn't get you to respond and you were burning up, you scared the life out of me. If you _ever_ feel ill or in pain, I expect you to tell me, I _want_ you to bother me. Is that clear?" he put his hand on the boy's shoulder and look at him intently, waiting for an answer.

"I'm s-s-sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, it just happened so quickly."

"I know, just do your best not to let it happen again, yes? I will always love you my silly boy." Alfred gave a weak smile; and Arthur returned it before standing.

"Now, I'm going to get you a cold cloth for your head. Do you think you feel up to eating something? I can make you your favorite, or maybe just some chicken broth? Or do you still feel-" Alfred gave a happy sigh, snuggling down into this covers. Finally he could just relax; everything seemed right in the world, if, you overlooked his splitting headache of course.

Line Break

AN: This story took me a horribly long time to write. I started it almost a year ago, but the day I was going to write the scene where he gets sick, I threw up for the first time in about three years. Needless to say, I lost my inspiration. I had almost forgotten I'd even done this until I remembered two days ago, and decided to give it my best shot and finish the damn thing. I think it will be better than the only other published story I have. God I hope so.


End file.
